I stand at the bridge. My arm was itching again and I suppress the urge to scratch my nails over the metal. It wouldn’t do anything to alleviate the itch though it might stop my hand from its slight shaking. Down to a hundred and five ships of the line not conducting garrison duty or those too damaged to continue operations and only a hundred and eighty three light ships and pickets in similar conditions. Low losses all considered, but still higher than I would prefer.

  “Exiting in thirty.”

  “Red alert, prepare for possible enemy formations.” I order cautiously.

  “Transmission is being beamed back. It won’t be secure, but what else is new.” Lieutenant Slas reports. One of the positives of being at the tip of the formation was being able to leave messages and orders in our wake to be picked up by the other ships in the formation. However with hyperspace interference encryption was limited, though again, as long as one knew who was behind you, the orders were relatively secure.

  “Five, four, three, two, one, exiting.” The navigations officer reports.

  Emerging from hyperspace I quickly survey the system. We entered outside of the system’s asteroid belt between Handooine proper and the noxious world further away from Handooine’s star. We should be able to pass through the belt without much issue, it had three major routes through it to reach Handooine, we’d take the quickest one.

  “All ships, form up, keep it tight, we’re making for Handooine proper, half speed ahead.” I order.

  “Half speed.” The Helmsman echoes.

  “Sir, I’m picking up Cronau radiation.” Lieutenant Wleder reports, “It’s faint and at about three o’clock centered at Sol Handooine twelve at galactic north standard.”

  “How faint?” I ask.

  “Definitely not background radiation, but … sir all due respect, but we shouldn’t be picking up anything at this level without it having shown up by now.” My sensors officer says.

  “So either, they just left-” I start.

  “Or there’s some two hundred ships of the line barreling down at us, sir.” Welder finishes.

  “Two to one odds.” Mi-Kus mutters, his voice revealing a morbid sense of acceptance.

  I snap into action: “Helmsman. Full speed ahead. Slas pass the order along to the formation. Sergeant Hamton, get me an itemized list of any anti-orbital weapons we may have aboard. I don’t care if I have to rip a SPHA-T from a Venator’s ass, get me that list and get me options. Welder, start scanning the battlefield, I want every cubic meter available and to know every spec of spacedust in system. Navigator, we make for Handooine proper.”

  “Yes, sir.” The Sergeant barks. Welder nods in affirmation while Slas simply starts babbling into her comms station, the navigator beginning to adjust the course and passing it along to the helmsman as they go.

  “The asteroid field is the primary astronomical object we can use.” I mutter to myself.

  “We’ll try what we did on the Giblim route again? We’re going back to fifth Alsakan conflict tactics again?” Mi-Kus asks, “I don’t think it’ll work a second time.”

  “I don’t either, but the enemy could expect it from us. We can bottle up the entrances to the inner system once the enemy has entered it and make them second guess themselves. We deploy maybe a fifth of what we used on the Giblim in each of the gaps with the minimum crew requirements. It’ll be enough to scare the enemy so we only need to use a couple dozen light ships anchored by maybe two or three ships of the line each, especially if we deploy minefields too. We’ll need experience for those groups, can’t have green boys run at the first sign of the enemy charging with three to five times their tonnage.”

  “I can see that working, sir. But what about the main battle. All the current tactic leans towards is a stalemate.”

  “A stalemate we would lose.” I agree. Sy Myrth was only a couple jumps away. If the enemy commander had the influence for it, they could get another one to three hundred ships of the line to join them here.

  “So what’s the trick?” Mi-Kus asks, “The anti-orbital weapons you’re looking for?”

  “I could have sworn we still had an anti-orbital battery from Dellalt with us.”

  “Why do we have that?” Mi-Kus asks incredulously.

  “Figured if the enemy pushed us back we’d try and use it on Jabiim. With all the mud and the ion storms, a well entrenched force should be able to provide suppressive fire without much risk of counter battery. If they’d have left we could have pounced on their supply lines and attacked them from behind, skirmishing with them as they advanced. If they stayed we could have requested forces from Boonta or Saleucami if desperate, and if they engaged us we would have had anti-orbital support.” I explain, “But I can’t remember if we had the damn things with us or with Krugwolt’s men.”

  Mi-Kus blinks in bafflement before speaking: “Only you, sir, would even think of lugging around an anti-orbital battery just in case.”

  “Thank you.” I reply as Sergeant Hamton rushes back to us.

  “Sirs, I’ve got a manifest. We do have an anti-orbital battery with us on the Acclamator one ‘Ghoul Stars’. It was swapped from General Krugwolt’s detachment for a more damaged Acclamator one and is currently in our third line of battle, south flank.”

  “Thank you, Sergeant.” I reply, “Get in touch with the Ghoul Stars’s Captain and request they prepare for landing on Handooine. Lieutenant Hursk, I need the regiments present prepared for entrenchment operations around the anti-orbital battery.”

  The two sailors salute with a chorused: “Yes, sir.”

  The two officer march off as I exchange a glance with Mi-Kus. The enemy would be arriving soon. How soon would be hard to say. Now, if we deployed mines in front of our proper lines it could slow the enemy, or damage any attack enough to stall it. But if I do deploy mines in such numbers the enemy will certainly call on reinforcements.

  “How long would reinforcements even take to get here?” I ask into the room.

  An Adjutant rushes forward, datapad in hand: “Just finished the calculations, sir. With help of our starcharts, it being an advantageous season for travel and by pressing the engines hard, reinforcements from Saleucami would take approximately hundred two hours forty minutes while reinforcements from Boonta would likely need ninety hours one minute total.”

  I frown as I nod: “Good work, sailor.”

  The man salutes before marching back to his station. I stare at the tactical display angrily as Mi-Kus speaks: “We can certainly hold the enemy for that long, but they would be able to get reinforced much faster than we would.”

  “We need decisive action.” I mutter as I glance over the list of ships an Adjutant just handed to me, “I’m not sure if we can manage something decisive.”

  “Sir?” Mi-Kus asks. A negative outlook was murder on morale.

  “A Pyrrhic victory is no true victory at all.” I mutter. Pyrrhus had lost his war after all.

  “Sir?” Mi-Kus asks more confusedly.

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  “Never mind.” I say, “Something I read once.”

  “Well, whatever you mean by it, sir, we cannot show weakness in times of duress.”

  “It’s not weakness, it is concern. Victory is a certainty, the cost is what brings me fear.”

  “A certainty, sir?” Mi-Kus asks.

  “Who’s showing weakness now?” I tease.

  “Not weakness, concern.” He shoots back, without a moment of hesitation.

  “I might have … no. I have a plan that should work.” I say, starring down the tactical display as our ships enter the inner system, Handooine almost dead ahead.

  Rear Admiral Hatha gazes out into hyperspace as he sits in his command throne. Dericote may enter the system around the time he does, but the fighting should be localized to the outer system, perhaps near the viscous and acidic Sol-Handooine Peth-2 and its moon or the dead world of Sol-Handooine Peth-3.

  Maybe he could force the Hussar into the asteroid belt and pelt him with stone and turbolaser flame alike? The Neimoidian almost gets giddy at the thought of finally besting his dreaded rival. To prove himself the better of the Republic Admiral. Both of them had a string of victories over their respective enemies, yet so far it was always Hatha who had to surrender the field to his rival. Not this time. This time Hatha had numbers and no restrictions. No civilians to protect, no incompetent fellow officers with the same authority as him, no restrictions from higher up.

  Oh how exciting it was to fight ones rival on an even playing field.

  Hyperspace recedes as two hundred and twenty six Separatist ships of the line and their forty pickets emerge from hyperspace to see a considerable Republic force directly ahead of them.

  “What?” The Neimoidian Rear Admiral breathes.

  He looks out into the void, his eyes wide in shock. Intel had placed the Republic forces at Jabiim. They should still be there, holding the world at siege. He was supposed to seize the initiative for once against the blasted Black Hussar!

  Instead there’s some sixty light ships and pickets bearing down on him. He quickly sweeps his gaze over the tactical display. Fifteen Arquitenses, ten Pelta frigates, two Centax frigates, two MC30c frigates, the dreaded MC40a light cruiser and some thirty corvettes of various, Corellian, makes. The sensors expand their detection to reveal further ships in the inner system. Blast!

  Some three hundred ships baring down on his force of two hundred and sixty. He glances at the readout. The enemy had about a hundred ships of the line and about two hundred light ships and pickets total. Sure he outnumbered them in tonnage some three to one, but Dericote had maneuverability on his side. Blast it all! The Neimoidian Rear Admiral looks around his bridge, a mix of fellow Neimoidians, droids, Sy Myrthians and Tionese humans looking at him for orders.

  “Are we blind? Deploy fighters! Red alert for all ships! Pull the Captor transports back and prepare battle lines! Commodore Mixyez has the front line, thirty Munificents wide and anchored with four Recusant lights on their flanks. Standard division for the following four lines, I want a deep formation. Navigate the Warprofiteer into the third line and the Jabiim into our forth.” He barks out as his bridge turns into a chaotic swirl of motions from his mixed crew.

  “Sir, Commodore Klurn is requesting the rearmost line.” A comms officer reports.

  “He may have it.” Hatha replies as his ships rapidly form up and begin a surge forwards towards the enemy’s light ships and pickets.

  Said ships fire off an ineffective salvo before turning about and making a run for the northernmost pass through the asteroids. Hatha could smell that trap a mile away. He hadn’t survived his grub-stage and his ascent into the ranks of the Trade Federation to by lured into something so plebeian.

  However. The Neimoidian pauses. Dericote knew him well, but did he know it was him in command? A hothead would certainly rush after the enemy force of pickets, while a more conservative officer would send a small force in pursuit.

  “Commodore Mixyez is to pursue those pickets with the central third of the second line and half our pickets in support. The rest of us, make for the central entrance to the inner system.” He orders. He was willing to commit to this. Dericote may be aggressive, but only once he settled into his preferred rhythm. He would not pounce easily on the force of fifty four ships of the line and twenty pickets with a force of sixty pickets. Yes, the Neimoidian thinks, this would do for now.

  “Deploy our advanced fighter screen to begin scouting out the passes in the asteroid belt.” He tacks on.

  Vulture swarms shoot forwards from their positions inside hangers and ship hulls alike towards the asteroid belt. It was like a thousand tiny darts shooting towards their destination, curving as if thrown by an expert hand.

  “Sir, Commodore Mixyez reports enemy ships deploying a sparse minefield in their wake.” A Neimoidian comms officer reports.

  “He may deal with it as he sees fit, as long as he does not ram through them.” Hatha replies easily.

  His ships race towards the second entrance to the large ring of asteroids in system. For a moment Hatha fears Dericote to have deployed behind Sol-Handooine Peth-2’s Moon. To use it as a way of pouncing on Hatha’s vulnerable rear, but the fear is abated as the sensors of a Vulture swarm finds the Moon uninhabited and without any ships in orbit.

  “Commodore Mixyez has entered the asteroid belt. Republic forces are still in retreat. Comms chatter will be difficult until we’re on the same side as him.” A Human comms officer reports.

  “As expected.” Hatha replies.

  “Vultures have begun scanning the secondary entrance. It looks clear. There’s some mineral deposits and a couple wrecks from the old Republic garrison here, but that’s it, sir.” One of the droid fighter controller B1s reports.

  “Adjust the formation to fit the pass. I want high vigilance and constant sensor sweeps. Keep the shields spread throughout and keep our guns on swivel. I don’t trust Dericote to not resort to Alsakan conflict tactics once more.” Hatha orders.

  The ships’ formation morphs slightly, closing in tighter as the wings of his Munificents overlap slightly to conform to the pass within the asteroid belt. Recusants, booth heavy and light, and Providences close together to distances so small that one only need a simple antiquated telescope to see one another from two opposing transparasteel view-ports.

  “Entering the asteroid belt.” His helmsman, a Tionese navigator from Dellalt, reports.

  “Keep vigilant. No surprises.” Hatha repeats, glaring at the current sensor readings alongside the tactical display.

  It is quiet, too quiet in the Neimoidians humble opinion, as they pass through the belt. Nothing of note, other than the handful of destroyed frigates and corvettes of Handooine’s former Republic garrison. The world had lost most of its forces when they left for Jabiim at the beginning of the war and lost the rest once the Republic had entered the muddy fighting of the mineral rich world. That hadn’t even happened under Dericote’s command of the Republic’s regional command, it had been so early in the war.

  A combined Sy Myrthian, Commerce Guild and Corporate Alliance force of fifty warships, rather large for the opening months of the war, had pounced upon the rearguard of the Rpeublic. The dozen odd frigates and corvettes had been lured into the pass Hatha currently found himself in and been wiped out to the last. Something the Neimoidian would not allow to happen to him!

  Finally, after an agonizingly quiet journey Hatha’s forces find themselves on the opposite side of the asteroid belt. Only to find the Republic’s forces formed up in a neat little line, in a single plane, across Handooine’s northern hemisphere. It’s center was in high orbit, while the rest of the Republic’s ships held to it’s plane. They weren’t rotating further towards his forces, but currently held a decent angle none the less. Especially with Handooine’s equatorially orbiting moon cutting off any attempted flank from below towards the Republic’s moonside flank.

  And racing towards the Republic’s line were the sixty light ships and pickets the Republic had sent to annoy his forces.

  “Spread the formation out a little and begin to move towards the Republic’s line. Mixyez will have the moonward flank. The Warprofiteer and Jabiim will head the reserve in the second line. We’ll keep the Captors and Providences in there, one and all.” Hatha orders slowly, trying to calculate the best way to defeat his rival.

  “We’ll be vulnerable to enemy counter maneuvers and a possible ambush from the final pass through the asteroid belt.” His tactical droid says, her tone … calculative.

  “I know Dericote, he will wait until all the pieces fall into place before pouncing. Once he’s set on an action he will pull through.” Hatha replies.

  “And if said action involves such a surge?” The droid asks.

  Hatha considers it. It wouldn’t exactly be usual for Dericote, but the Hussar had used unusual tactics before. The Neimoidian nods: “Very well, adjust our shield positions and deploy a second fighter screen. A light one, far spread.”

  A slight change in formation as the Separatist force rushes towards their foes. Missiles and turbolasers finally heating up as they approach their prospective ranges. Yet before Hatha can give the order to fire he’s interrupted.

  “Sir, we’re detecting enemy light ships and pickets emerging from the asteroid belt.”

  “What!?”

  My eyes are cold as the Sep’s primary formation flinches. They must have detected my forces in the second asteroid pass. Faxe had followed his orders to the letter. It would definitely distract Hatha for a moment or two as the minelayers deployed their payloads within the second pass.

  Oh and of karking course it would be Hatha. The Neimoidian’s forces weren’t in the southern Perlimian, but at four time cursed Dellalt! The ships we had detected there had either been on loan from the recently promoted Rear Admiral, or had just been assigned to the Neimoidian.

  “We’ve got the full read now, sir.” Lieutenant Welder reports.

  “And?” I ask disinterestedly. The enemy outnumbered us two to one, more precise numbers would do little to calm me.

  “One Lucrehulk battleship/carrier, six Providence battleships, four Recusant heavies, ten Recusant lights, ten Dreadnoughts a hundred and three Munificents, both with and without hangars, forty two Munifexes, fifty Captor cruiser/carriers and forty Gozantis.” The Sensors officer reports dutifully.

  Well fuck me. I sigh. It could be so much worse. The enemy could have double their number in destroyers and battleships. Instead there were a hundred and three Munificents and forty two Munifexes. The Munifexes could be fought at range, the Munificents had pretty shit armor once their shields failed, especially those with hangar bays.

  It could be worse. I look over the tactical display. The forces hidden in the southernmost asteroid pass now rushing along the outside of the asteroid belt, Faxe’s trio of Acclamators peeling off to anchor the forces defending the second pass while the rest under Commodore Hugh makes a mad dash towards the northernmost pass.

  Sure, I had separated six Acclamator ones and some forty light ships and pickets from my proper line, but that was acceptable. The enemy would either ignore them, allowing me to skirmish against their rear, or divert forces of a larger number once they realize my two Commodores’ forces are behind pretty little minefields and supported by a battalion’s worth of AT-TEs each. Though stripping the armor from the inevitable ground campaign wasn’t necessarily great, I needed them among the stars more desperately than on the surface.

  I gaze at the tactical display. The various cruisers and battleships spread throughout, in a certain patters. A duo of battleships or destroyers, with their pickets, then a group of Acclamators, then a group of Dreadnoughts and their pickets, then Acclamators and repeat. The only exception was my center where it simply had a row of five Dreadnougths instead of the battleships. The Little Revenge stood in reserve alongside the eight Fondorian Hammerheads, their Sphyrna corvettes and two hulking MedStars, ready to plug gaps to surge forwards in a moment of enemy weakness.

  I glance over to the two MedStars. I should have left them with their three counterparts over Jabiim. But Sina and Rose were vital transports of medical supplies and war material booth. They had held the prefabricated houses and bunkers now strewn around the anti orbital battery below. They sheltered the seven Regiments worth of men below alongside their support personnel. It had been little too late to send them back when the construction had finished and now they were stuck here.

  The line was thin, pickets, frigates, both armed and transports, and light cruisers reinforcing the line where possible. Tapal’s forces were very useful in that, the Venators lengthening the line’s stability and the sixteen light ships and pickets acting as part of the skirmishing force I’d originally sent out to trick the enemy into a reckless pursuit. A pity that hadn’t gone exactly to plan, but the mines they deployed could be recycled for the northern pass’ defenses.

  I tap my slugthrower as the quiet murmurings of the bridge almost let me forget the fight we’re about to begin. I take a deep breath before speaking: “Missiles ready?”

  “Ready and awaiting orders.” Mi-Kus answers.

  “All groups call in.” I request, “Put them through the bridge speakers.”

  Lieutenant Slas nods as a quick flick of the switch begins the transmission’s sound off.

  “This is Unit Malastare, Moon’s secure.”

  “This is Unit Daughter o’ Dac. Sounding off.”

  “This is Unit Pride of Toong’l. 209th O.R. Squadron’s yours once more, sir.” Commodore Jim says.

  “This is Unit Owlcat, Deploying fighters.”

  “Unit Gundark’s Brood, awaiting orders.”

  “Unit Warhammer eager for action.” I hear Commodore Abelard say as the sound off continues in the background.

  Eight battleship units, nine Dreadnought units, eighteen Acclamator units, three Hammerhead cruiser units. Alongside some hundred and forty light ships and pickets spread throughout. A line I would have murdered for at Mon Cala. A line I would have glassed a planet for in the beginning of the war. And now? I take another look along the line, face set in a grim frown. Now it would have to make do.